When Boy Meets Boy
by Darling Opal
Summary: Derek Morgan, local football star, is failing English. Now he's being tutored by the school's resident genius, Spencer Reid. Spencer turns Derek's life upside down, and Derek loves everyone moment of it. However, after making a horrible mistake, he loses Spencer. Can he win Spencer back? Or will it be too late? (Slash)
1. Prologue

**Prologue **

"Thank you," I whispered, resting my forehead against his.

"For what?" He asked, peering into my eyes.

"For giving me a chance."

"Well then, thank you, too," he murmured.

"For what?"

"For taking a chance." I kissed his lips softly. We both jumped as my phone beeped, signaling us that our free period was over, and it was time to back to class—back to _reality._ "Time to go," he sighed sadly before getting up and gathering his stuff.

"I—I'm sorry," I murmured as I stood up, dusting the dirt off of my pants.

"It's fine—really, it's all fine." He assured me, but I knew he was lying, I knew he was hurting. I was about to respond when I heard someone calling my name. When I looked to see who it was, my stomach dropped. I saw Tim, Jeff, and Dan, guys from the football team, approaching us.

"H-Hi, guys," I greeted, stepping away from Spencer.

"Hanging out with a _fag_, Morgan?" Tim asked in disgust as he walked towards us.

"I—uh—o-of course not!" I responded quickly, putting more distance between Spencer and me. I chanced a look at him, and my heart clenched when I saw the hurt in his eyes.

"Good, we don't want you catching the gay." I flinched slightly at Tim's words, but said nothing. Tim, Jeff, and Dan were all inching closer to Spencer. I clenched and unclenched my fist, trying my best to control the rage bubbling inside of me. "So what do you have to say for yourself, fag?" Tim asked, invading Spencer's personal space. Spencer didn't say anything. After a few moments, Tim grew angrier. "Answer me, fag!" He pushed Spencer hard, so hard that Spencer ended up falling to the ground with a loud thud. He groaned, clutching his midsection, and curling into himself, but otherwise remained silent. I eyed Tim and the others, who looked like they were about to attack. Before I knew it, they were on top of him, kicking and punching as they saw fit.

"Stop!" I yelled, pulling them off of him.

"Why? We need to teach this fag some respect!" Tim raged.

"Just leave it alone, you three can't afford to get into anymore trouble, Mr. Hotchner will expel you!" I said as earnestly as I could, hoping they would fall for it.

"Fine," Tim turned to Spencer, "make sure you keep yourself in line, faggot. Next time, you won't be so lucky." I looked down at the ground, not daring to meet Spencer's eyes. "Come on guys, let's get out of here." Numbly, I followed along. When we got to the doors of the school, I told them that my class was the other way, and said goodbye. When I was sure they were out of sight, I ran back to the field, praying that Spencer was still there.

"Spencer," I yelled, seeing his frail figure struggling to get up. I reached out to help him, but he yanked his arm out of grasp.

"Don't touch me!" He spat, forcing himself to stand up straight.

"Baby—"

"No, you do not get to call me that."

"I'm sorry—"

"You know, I didn't want to make you come out of closet so soon because I didn't want to rush you. I understand that. But I never took you for such a spineless _coward!_" His words pierced my heart, and I felt like I was just punched in the gut.

"I—"

"No, don't. I know where I stand now, Derek. Thank you for making it perfect clear just how much you _"love" _me." And just like that, I watched the best thing that has ever happened to me walk away—walk out of my life, all because I'm a fucking _coward._

* * *

**Author's Note**

Hello, readers.  
If you're returning to this story confused, it's because I've deleted the original and I am now rewriting it, albeit slowly. My writing has progressed, and I've decided I'm going rewrite most (if not all) of my stories. This was my longest, most worked on story, so it's going first. For the next few weeks, posting will be a little slow. However, I already have the first few chapters written, so it shouldn't be too bad. I apologize for everyone who was confused and looking for the story. Hopefully, you'll like this version even better.

Thank you for all your patience.


	2. Five Months Earlier

**_[Five months earlier]_**

"You're failing."

"I know."

"If you continue down this path, I can't let you continue football. It's still early in year, Derek, you can still bring it up." Mr. Gideon said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What do you propose I do?"

"Tutoring."

"_Tutoring?"_

"Yes, _tutoring._ I already have someone picked out for you. He's my best student."

"This is my only option?"

"As of now? Yes."

"Fine," I sighed, "if that's my only option, I'll do it."

"Good. You'll be meeting with him twice a week, Monday and Fridays in the school library, the days you don't have football practice on."

"And if this doesn't work?"

"It'll work, trust me," he assured me, but I didn't feel so reassured. The last bell rang, signaling the end of the day.

"Well, I don't want to keep you. He'll meet you in the library in ten minutes. His name is Spencer Reid."

"Alright, thank you, Mr. Gideon. Have a nice day." I muttered, gathering up my book bag, and leaving the classroom. I went to my locker, gathered up my books, grabbed my jacket, and headed to the library. _Well,_ I thought, _here goes nothing. _

The library was mostly empty, with the exception of a few students doing work, and various study groups. I walked through the seemingly endless aisles of books, until I spotted a lone person sitting at a table in the back, with his head buried in the book. Hesitantly, I walked up to him.

"Spencer Reid?"

"Yes?" He replied, looking up from his book.

"Hi, I'm Derek Morgan. Mr. Gideon sent me."

"You're right on time," he smiled, "take a seat." I slumped in the chair right across from him. "Mr. Gideon tells me you're not doing well in English. Greek Mythology, right?"

"Try failing miserably," I grumbled.

"Well, let's see if we can fix that, yeah?"

"That's why we're here."

"Okay, what are you studying in your class?"

"We're reading _Mythology _by Edith Hamilton. Today we focused on the Titans."

"Okay, let's see. I read that book a few years back, so excuse me if I'm a little rusty. Well, unlike many other creation stories, in the Greek versions the gods are created _by _the universe instead of the other way around. In the beginning, two entities exist, Heaven and Earth. Their children are the Titans, whose children, in turn, are the Olympians, the main Greek gods. The Titans—who include such notables as Ocean, Mnemosyne—_memory_—and Prometheus, mankind's benefactor—rule the universe until Zeus and their other children conquer them. The term "Olympians" comes from Mount Olympus, the gods' mystical home, which is conceived as a high mountaintop but is really a magical place that exists on a heavenly plane—not the heavens—which Zeus alone rules—, earth, sea, nor underworld. Shared by all the gods, Olympus is perfect. Rain never falls there, and the gods spend their time eating, drinking, and listening to music. There are twelve proper Olympians: Zeus; his two brothers, Poseidon and Hades; his two sisters, Hestia and Hera (who is also his wife); his children, Ares, Athena, Apollo, Hermes, and Artemis; and two gods sometimes considered his offspring, Hephaestus and Aphrodite. There are also lesser gods in Olympus, like Eros, the Graces, and the Muses. Several, like Hebe, goddess of Youth, are rarely mentioned in myths. There are also a few abstract forces personified, if not completely, who live on Olympus: Themis, Divine Justice; Dike, Human Justice; Nemesis, Righteous Anger; and Aidos. Are you following me?"

"How did you do that?" The words flew out of my mouth before I could even think.

"Do what?" He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"Recite all that from memory?"

"Oh, that. I have an eidetic memory."

"_Meaning_…"

"In the simplest of terms, I remember everything I read." He responded sheepishly, his pale cheeks flushing red.

"Wow, so are you some kind of genius?"

"I, uh, don't like measuring intelligence, and I don't think it can be measured. I never took labeling myself based off a numb—." he cut himself off. "I'm sorry, I tend to do that."

"It's fine," I responded automatically, "I don't mind." His eyes widened slightly, his cheeks flushing a darker shade of red. He bit his lip, looking down bashfully. I felt my chest tighten the slightest bit, but I thought nothing of it.

"Ah," he cleared his throat, "well, t-thank you, I think." There was a tense moment of silence, before he continued. "Let's get back to work, shall we?" For the next forty-five minutes, Spencer and I went over everything basics of Greek Mythology. Before I knew it, it was four o'clock and time to go.

"Same time on Monday?" I questioned, putting the rest of my books back in my bag.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, putting on his jacket.

"I'll see you then. Bye," I told him, heading out.

* * *

Monday came far too quickly. I spent the weekend catching up on homework, and sleep.

"Good morning, beautiful," I greeted my best friend, Penelope, who was putting her books in her locker.

"Morning, love," she smiled, closing her locker. "How was your weekend?"

"Boring."

"Sounds like my kind of weekend."

"Yeah, it was beautiful." She laughed softly, and then linked her arm with mine as we made our way to our first class. "Did you do the calc homework?" She asked as we made our way into our calculus class.

"Yeah. Now did I do it _correctly?_ Probably not."

"Same," she giggled. We took our regular seats in the back, and prepared ourselves for an hour of misery.

The rest of the day went by without a hitch. I went to my classes, I did my work, and that was it. Just like every other day of school. Before I knew it, the last bell rung, and it was time to go home. Except, not for me. I got to go to _tutoring._ _Joyous._

"Hey," I said, taking a seat across from Spencer.

"Hello. How are you?" He responded, putting down the book he was reading.

"I'm alright, and yourself?"

"Fine, thank you. Ready to get started?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." He laughed softly. _Wow, he has a great laugh—_whoa, where did _that_ come from? Quickly, I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand.

"What did you do in class today?"

"Mr. Gideon assigned us a paper," I replied, reaching into my bag to get out the rubric.

"What's the essential question?"

"Uhm…ah! Here it is. 'The myths are full of instances of the cruelty of the gods. Giving multiple examples, discuss the reasons for the gods' cruelty. Is it always justified? What does the cruelty of the gods say about the Greeks' view of the universe?'."

"Did you get started?"

"I started writing a very rough outline during class, while we were discussing the question."

"Can I see it?" I flipped through my notebook for a few moments, and when I found the page, I handed it over to him. His eyes scanned over the page quickly, and I could practically hear the gears turning inside his mind.

"It's a good start," he said, "come here, I'll help you draw up a more detailed outline." Quickly, I moved my chair so I was sitting right next to him. Right away, my senses were faced with an onslaught of all things _Spencer._ He smelled like coffee, mint, and lilacs. My stomach churned, but not unpleasantly so. Shaking my head, I pushed down the feelings that were suddenly bubbling inside my chest. _Stop it_, I chastised myself,_ you're being an idiot. _My inner thoughts were penetrated by Spencer's voice. "Derek? Are you listening?"

"What?"

"I asked you if you were listening? But due to your response, it's safe to say that you weren't."

"I—sorry," I muttered, scratching the back of neck. "I got lost in my head."

"It's fine. Okay, now that you've rejoined reality, let's get started." Spencer and I spent the next fifty minutes outlining my essay. Including coming up with a plausible thesis and topic sentences for most of my paragraphs, all topped with supporting quotes (and page numbers, of course). All while I simultaneously tried to ignore the effect Spencer and his scent had on me.

"So how do you feel about the essay now?" Spencer asked as we were packing up our stuff.

"A lot better than I did before, thanks," I replied genuinely.

"Good, that's good. I'm glad I could be of some assistance." Unlike last time, we walked out together, chatting aimlessly.

"So," I started, "how did you get so interested in Greek Mythology?"

"I wouldn't say I'm specifically interested in Greek Mythology, rather I am interested in being knowledgeable. I love learning new things." He explained quietly, yet another flush spreading through his cheeks (_not that I was keeping track, or anything)._

"So what else do you know about?" I asked as we approached his car. I leaned against the passenger door.

"What do you want to know?"

"Surprise me."

"How much do you know about space?"

"It's really big," I grinned cheekily. I was rewarded with a deep-in-the-belly laugh from Spencer. I felt heart swell with pride, and I couldn't help but to smile fondly at him. After his laughter died down, and the giggles subsided, he spoke.

"Well, how's this—Black holes are the cold remnants of former stars, so dense that no matter—not even light—is able to escape their powerful gravitational pull. While most stars end up as **white dwarfs** or **neutron stars**, black holes are the last evolutionary stage in the lifetimes of enormous stars that had been at least 10 or 15 times as massive as our own sun. When giant stars reach the final stages of their lives they often detonate in cataclysms known as **supernovae**. Such an explosion scatters most of a star into the void of space but leaves behind a large "cold" remnant on which fusion no longer takes place."

"Wow," I said in awe, "that was amazing."

"T-Thank you," he stammered, looking down at his feet. After a few tense moments, I cleared my throat awkwardly.

"W-Well, I'll see you on Friday then, yeah?" I offered, hopefully breaking the tension. He lifted his head and met my gaze once again, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

"Bye," I said before I headed off to my own car. I risked a glance back at Spencer only to find him in the same spot I left him, smiling to himself. I turned to face forward once again, not able to fight my own smile.


	3. The Dilemma

The rest of my week was filled with school, homework, and football practice. By the time Friday came around, my body ached, and I was exhausted. Not to mention the fact that I couldn't stop thinking about a certain genius. The more I tried to stop thinking about him, the worse it became; and every time I found myself thinking about him, my stomach clenched, and my heart sped up. I didn't know what it all meant, and I refused to let myself to think about what it could mean. Nonetheless, none of it stopped the tiny bubble of excitement in my chest as I thought about what was to come when the last bell rung—my thoughts were broken when I everything went dark, and I felt familiar hands against my face.

"Guess who?"

"The light of my life?" I responded, turning to face her.

"Very good!"

"Hi, Penny," I beamed, kissing her cheek.

"Hello, my darling," she replied brightly. "Do you want to hang out after school? You know, the usual. Pizza and a movie on my couch."

"Sounds great, but I have tutoring after school until four. Come over afterwards?"

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed, linking our arms together as we walked down the hallway. "I never did ask you, who is your tutor?"

"Spencer Reid."

"Oh! I know him. He's in AP Psychology class with Mr. Rossi. He's so quiet."

"He seems like he would be, but he isn't around me. Though, that's probably due to the fact that he has to teach me." She snickered softly as we entered our class.

* * *

_ Ten minutes to go,_ I thought as I looked at the clock for the umpteenth time. _I just want this week to be over. __**That's**__ why I keep looking at the clock, _I repeated those words in my head like a mantra, trying to reassure myself. When the bell _finally _did ring, I completely **did not** jump in my seat a little, and my heart **did not** skip a beat. No, none of that happened.

After gathering my books, I headed up the library. I saw Spencer sitting at our usual table. I frowned. He looked so _tired_; there were dark purple circles under his eyes, and he looked even paler than normal—borderline translucent. He wasn't reading a book like he normally did; instead he was just sitting there, staring off into space. Cautiously, I approached him.

"Hey," I greeted Spencer softly. Instantly, I felt guilty when he jumped at the sound of my voice. "I'm sorry," I said immediately, taking a seat.

"It—it's fine. Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." He responded hastily, sitting up in his chair a little straighter. "So, let's get start—"

"Hey, hey," I interrupted him, placing my hand on top of his as they scrambled through the papers on the table. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He responded quickly, too quickly.

"Spencer—"

"Leave it alone, Derek," his voice was firm, his words laced with a hint of anger. I felt hurt. I don't know why. It must have shown on my face though, because he continued, "I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just tired, okay?"

"How about we just skip today? Mr. Gideon wouldn't mind, I'm sure. Go home and get some rest."

"No, no, it's fine. Please, let's just get to work." I eyed him skeptically for a few moments, but decided it was best not to push. Sighing softly, I replied,

"Okay, if that's what you want. Just…just know that I'm here for you. As awfully cliché as that sounds, it's true." His eyes widened, and his lips parted slightly.

"Thank you," he whispered after a few seconds of silence. In that moment, I realized our hands were still joined together. He must have realized as well, because we mutually pulled our hands away quickly, both of us laughing uncomfortably. "Okay," he muttered, clearing his throat, "let's get to work." For the next hour and forty-five minutes, we worked diligently. I showed him the start of my essay, and he made corrections, and showed me where I what I was doing wrong, and how to strengthen my thesis and my supporting ideas. When four o'clock came around, we packed our bags, and walked out together. Before I lost my nerve I asked,

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Please, Derek. Just leave it alone." He voice was weak; he sounded so tired and defeated.

"I'm just worried."

"Don't be."

"Why?"

"Just…don't be, okay? Leave it alone." He sounded so tired. My stomach clenched, my throat tightened, and my heart ached. Mutely, I nodded, unable to produce any other type of response. "Thank you." Spencer turned to walk away when he suddenly collapsed.

"Spencer!" I shouted, rushing to kneel next to him. "Spencer," I repeated, cradling his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and I let out a sigh of relief. He tried to sit up, but he struggled, so I grasped his arms to help steady him. I reached into my bag and grabbed my water bottle. "Here," I said, "drink this." Without arguing, he took the bottle and took a small sip. I looked at him pointedly. He took a longer sip. He gave the bottle back to me.

"Thank you," his voice was hoarse, and he wouldn't look me in the eyes.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I haven't been sleeping well, I guess it finally caught up to me, yeah?" He forced out a short laugh, attempting to lighten the mood, probably. "Well," he said after a moment of silence. "I should get going," he attempted to get up.

"Let me drive you home." I insisted, helping Spencer to his feet.

"Derek, no—"

"You are in no condition to drive, Spencer." I cut him off.

"Really, I'm fine—"

"Bullshit. You just fainted, Spencer. I'm not taking no as an answer on this. I am letting you put yourself and potentially another person in danger by letting you drive." My voice was stern, leaving no room for argument. He stared me in the eyes for a moment, and I silently challenged him to argue with me about this.

"Fine." I smiled in triumph.

"Come on," I said, leading him out to my car. We walked in silence, and I resisted the urge to rest my hand on his back in order to help him. I continuously flexed my fingers at my side as I fought the temptation. When we arrived at my car, I opened the passenger-side door for him. I made sure he was situated before I walked over to my side.

We spent the majority of the fifteen-minute car ride in silence, with the exception of Spencer directing me where to go. Spencer and I also agreed that I would pick him up on Monday morning since we left his car at school. We pulled into his driveway, and I went to get out of the car to help him out.

"No!" Spencer protested, reaching to grasp my arm.

"Wha—" He cut me off.

"I don't need any help," he insisted.

"Spencer—"

"Derek, please. I don't need any help." He looked at me pleadingly, his brow furrowing anxiously. My jaw clenched unconsciously, and my heart sank.

"Fine."

"I'm sorry—"

"It's fine." The air between us quickly filled with tension, to the point where it was practically tangible. I looked straight ahead, refusing to look him in the eyes. I didn't know why I was so hurt by him pushing me away. I hadn't a clue of why I was acting so cold towards him—which, in of itself, hurt just as much as him pushing me away. I don't know why I felt this desperate ache deep down in my chest to help him. I didn't know why any of this is happening, but I did know what I'm feeling, and it really hurt. After a moment, I heard him sigh softly, and quickly got out of the car. Before I could stop myself, I backed out of his driveway, and sped away. With every passing mile, my chest grew tighter, and it became harder to breathe. _Fuck._

* * *

"There you are—What happened?" Penny's voice was laced with concern, causing a new wave of guilt to flood my veins. I cleared my throat.

"Sorry I'm late." She grabbed my arm and pulled me into her house, leading me to her couch.

"Something happened." I said nothing. She continued. "What's wrong, Derek?" I buried my head into my hands. Penny started to gently rub my back in comfort.

"My head hurts." I finally spoke.

"Are you feeling sick?" I shook my head, and then I nodded my head. "Does it have to do with your tutoring session?" Silence. "I'll take that as a yes. What happened, sweetie?" My blood felt much too warm, and the room was spinning much too fast.

"Nothing makes sense anymore. I don't know what to do anymore."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific than that."

"I—I can't." My voice cracked.

"Oh, honey," she wrapped her arms around me, and I instantly curled into the familiar comfort that was my best friend. "It's going to be okay, I promise." We sat like that for a few moments before Penny broke the silence.

"Okay, time to get on with our movie marathon, yeah? We can talk about all of this later, when you're feeling better." Mutely, I nodded. Penny got up, went into the kitchen, and, a few minutes later, and came back with a tray of full popcorn, soda, chocolate, and ice cream. "Yes, it's a bit much, but I can tell we're going to need this." I couldn't suppress my smile. The room stopped spinning. Twenty minutes later, both Penny and I changed into our sleepwear. She wore a purple tank top, sweatpants, and her hair was tied in a loose bun. I wore a gray t-shirt, and plaid pajamas pants. I rested my feet on her coffee table, and she rested her feet on my lap. We were both eating our ice cream, engrossed in _The Dark Knight. _This was something I was used to; a familiar comfort that calmed me down. Penny and I watched two more movies, _Little Miss Sunshine _and _Inception._ Between_ Little Miss Sunshine _and _Inception,_ I texted my mother to let her know that I was going to stay with Penny. It was around midnight when the movies finished, but both Penny and I were still running on a bit of a "sugar high." We lay on opposite ends of the couch, our feet tangled in the middle. As the ending credits for _Inception _started to roll, Penny turned off the TV.

"Feeling any better?"

"Yeah, a lot better, thank you for this."

"Of course, anything for my best friend. Now, are you up for talking about it?"

"Not really, no, but I don't have much choice, do I?"

"Well, your choices are now, or later. Either way, I'm not letting you suffer through this alone." I sighed.

"Okay, okay, fine. Well, as you know, I had my tutoring session with Spencer today. He didn't look so well, but he insisted that we went on as normal. Well, as we were packing up, I told him that he could always come to me—cliché, I know—but he insisted he was fine. I wanted to push, but I left it alone. While he was walking away, he fainted. Thankfully, he came to quickly. I helped him up, and I made him let me drive him home, because I knew he wasn't in any condition to drive. When we got to his house, I tried to help him to his door, but he just told me stay in the car, and to leave. He just kept pushing me away, refusing to let me do _anything_ for him, and, and it hurt, you know? I haven't a clue why it hurt, but it did; hell, it felt as though I was being punched in the chest. I'm angry. I'm angry at him for pushing me away, but I'm more angry at myself for letting it affect me so much! I know that he owes me nothing. He's my tutor not my—friend. He doesn't have to tell me anything. I—I don't know. Everything is just so screwed up right now." I took a breath. I looked down at my hands. The room was silent, and it felt as though I was suffocating.

"How long have you felt like this?" Her voice was soft, comforting.

"W-what do you mean? This just happened today."

"Derek, these feelings don't just pop out of nowhere. There's obviously something more."

"What are you saying?" I was becoming defensive–I knew that.

"I'm not saying anything, Derek."

"Penny—"

"You need to figure this out on your own." I knew she was right. She knew I knew she was right. I slumped back against couch, sighing heavily. Suddenly, there was no more sugar rush, I just felt extremely tired.

"I'm scared," I whispered. She reached over and grabbed my hand.

"I know, love, but it will all be okay. I promise." We sat in silence for a little while, and then she announced it was time for us to head to bed. We cleaned up the mess, and then we headed to her room. The air mattress I usually used was already set up. After we brushed our teeth, and said goodnight, we both fell into bed. My body was exhausted, but my mind was reeling, and my stomach was in knots. I didn't want to think about the truth behind her words. I laid there, surrounded by deafening silence and suffocating darkness. After what seemed like hours, I finally fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
I don't know how I feel about this chapter, and I don't know if I'm taking this story in the right direction, but it is what it is.


End file.
